Ruin
by Aryn Jean
Summary: "I told you I was bad, Abby. I told you. And you still didn't stay away. You still thought there was something good in me. Well, now, I can prove it to you," he said, frowning, and began to lift the sleeve of his left arm.  WARNING: MATURE CONTENT
1. Chapter 1

Her feet crunched the leaves and twigs of the ground as she sped through the trees. The slapping of her feet was almost as rapid as her heartbeat. She could barely breathe, she was running so fast.

She made one step at exactly the wrong angle. She landed with her foot bent in, and her ankle gave a loud "crack!" as she threw the full weight of her body onto the side of her foot. She practically made a somersault as she toppled to the dirt and shrieked in pain and fear. There was no way she could get away from him now.

She turned towards the way she had come. As his image drew closer in the distance, she mustered up enough courage to pull her wand out of her pocket, ankle throbbing. With shaking hands, she raised her wand to point it at her pursuer. She grimaced at the mere thought of the spell in her head. _What am I thinking? _she thought. _I can't hurt him. I can't even _stun _him._

The moment she was able to discern his contorted face between the black trees of the Forbidden Forest, he had beaten her to the punch. His eyes fell upon her drawn wand.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Her wand shot from her hand. It was too dark to see where it had landed. He finally halted just in front of her exhausted and fearful face. She looked up at him with a plea in her eyes. There was nothing _he_ could want with her. She was nothing special. What could he possibly be going to do to her?

"_Incarcerous_!" he shouted, and silver ropes shot from the tip of his wand and wrapped themselves around her wrists, behind her back. Her legs, however, remained untied. She was thankful as her ankle was in excruciating enough pain as it was. He knelt down and grasped a fistful of her dark hair, wrenching her face in front of his.

"Why?" he said. "Why couldn't you just get away? What kind of a witch are you?"

She thought she saw hatred in his face, and his lip may have twitched in satisfaction that he'd finally cornered her, but his eyes said something different. She almost laughed, though she was terrified.

"You know I couldn't do anything to you," she said. "No matter what you do to me, I could never harm you, Draco."

* * *

><p><em>Again<em>, she thought, headed down the corridor away from the Ravenclaw common room. _Why was I ever Sorted into this House?_

Abby Hale had, once again, been denied access to the Ravenclaw tower, having failed to correctly answer the eagle's riddle. The first time it happened, in her first year, she had been contented to sit and wait for someone cleverer to come along, answer the riddle, let her in, and help her to learn and grow - unfortunately, however, the next person to enter the common room was a curly-haired seventh year who scorned her dreadfully. She told Abby she'd never make it in Ravenclaw House if she couldn't even answer her first riddle without a Prefect's lead, and she may as well set up a four-poster at the bottom of the spiral staircase. Wishing to avoid such ridicule ever again, even now in her sixth year, she never waited for a correct answer anymore - she changed her plans and decided to work on her homework out on the grounds next to the lake rather than in the cozy common room.

Spring had just begun, and the sun was shining. It was warm, but nowhere near hot. She sat criss-crossed near the edge of the lake and pulled the beginnings of her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay from her bag. Professor Snape always seemed to be in a bad mood after the period before, when the Gryffindors and Slytherins had his class, and often took his anger out on the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs with extra homework. Letting the partially written-on parchment rest on her lap but a moment, she reached for her bag to retrieve her quill and ink.

Spring, however, did not bring with it the absence of wind. A huge gust suddenly swept over the grounds, and took with it Abby's parchment.

Instinctively, Abby sprung up and lurched forward to snatch it from the wind before it could be carried into the lake. She lost her footing.

A huge "splash!" was heard across the grounds, and Abby resurfaced, clutching her parchment, the ink bleeding onto her soaked hand. She cursed at herself. Not only had she been dumb enough to practically dive into the lake, but she had seemed to have forgotten she was a bloody _witch _- she'd learned the Summoning charm years ago. The parchment - and herself - never had to go near the surface of the water.

She expected roaring laughter, but it seemed not many had noticed. A few looked over in concern, or perhaps expecting some more of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named action the Potter boy had been stirring up the past six years. Three boys, however, had emerged from the castle and had neared the lake, witnessing the whole embarrassing scene. Three _Slytherin_ boys.

The middle one, who appeared to be the leader of the three, a tall, slender, silvery-blonde boy, nearly burst with almost maniacal laughter. He could hardly contain himself. Her head snapped in his direction.

As he neared her soaking figure, he jabbed a finger towards the blue and silver tie of her uniform. "A Ravenclaw?" he exclaimed, mockingly. "I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be exceptionally smart?" He laughed again. "Oh, but don't worry. It won't be the first time the hat's wrongly Sorted a stupid git into Ravenclaw - it doesn't particularly care where it puts those too inept for Slytherin." He bellowed with laughter again, and his surly friends echoed him as the three of them began to stalk off, looking satisfied.

Without thinking, Abby whipped her wand our from her robes and pointed it towards the back of the blonde boy's head, enraged.

"_Aguamenti_!"

She expected just a small trickle of water to shoot from her wand and douse the boy a bit, but the spell's power seemed to be enhanced by the fact that Abby was standing in the lake - or perhaps it was her intense rage. The water around her followed the direction of her wand, lifting up into the air and streamlining towards the three boys. Even some of the water that had soaked into her robes seemed to lift forward. Seconds later, the water settled in puddles on the grass, and the boys were positively soaked.

Watching the back of his head, Abby could see the blonde boy look down at his drenched robes - which appeared to be far more expensive than anyone else's. Letting out a loud growl, the boy whipped around on his heel with a sneer at Abby, pulling out his wand, his friends following sluggishly behind him.

He stomped toward her, stopping inches from her nose. She didn't move an inch, and kept her wand firmly planted at his chest. "How DARE you?" He seethed through clenched teeth. "My father-"

"-Must not be much of anything if he raised a dreadful prat like you," she spat. For a moment, he seemed to be forming a retort in his head, yet, the words never came. He looked more boiling mad than ever at her words. He looked her up and down, seeming to look for something to insult, but the search came up empty. His eyes landed back on hers. A small smirk crossed his face.

"Perhaps I was wrong," he said. Her sneer didn't falter. "Perhaps you wouldn't do so badly in Slytherin." He backed up a few feet, but pointed his wand directly into her face. "But you'll sincerely regret it if you dare speak to me that way again. Best not let that happen." He turned to leave.

"Don't count on it," she spat, and slowly began to pull herself out of the lake, ignoring the staring eyes around her.


	2. Chapter 2

"That's wonderful!" Mindi shouted to Abby as they made the way into Ravenclaw tower. "I wish I'd seen it! No one's ever spoken to Draco Malfoy that way before! Well, Potter and his friends have. . . . And I think the Granger girl slapped him in the face once. . . . But he's never actually _backed down _before." She drifted down onto one of the navy blue chairs and though it feathered out slightly, her short, choppy hair settled right back into shape, framing her tiny, elven face.

Abby furrowed her brow and settled upon the long couch. "So, wait. . . . You know him? Draco, that's his name?"

"Well, of course," Mindi said, her eyes now mostly focused on her potions book. "Everybody knows of the Malfoys. One of the last pureblood families there is - and just about the nastiest, too." She began to flick through the pages. "That Draco boy's always giving everybody hell."

"So that's why his knee-jerk reaction was to threaten me with his father? Some stupid, pureblood-supremacist silliness?"

"Did he mention his father? Yeah, he does that." Mindi became suddenly less intent on her potions book, and leaned in, giving Abby a serious look. "But you really ought to be careful after all. His father's a Death Eater."

Abby suppressed a gasp. "A _Death Eater_?"

Mindi nodded. "Safely locked away in Azkaban now, though, don't worry. And I hear He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named isn't happy with him, either. Goodness. How do you not know any of this? Six years at Hogwarts and you've not even heard of Lucius Malfoy?"

Abby shrugged. "I'm not subscribed to the Prophet or anything. And you're the only one I've ever talked to. Nothing like this has ever really come up before." She sighed and slumped back on the couch. "I hate being Muggle-born. I never have a clue around here."

Mindi giggled. "Well, unless you've somehow sincerely ticked off You-Know-Who, I don't think you have much to worry about not knowing things like who's a Death Eater and who's a pretentious git." Abby smiled in response.

"Well, Death Eater father or no, I'll have no more rubbish from that Malfoy. He can't intimidate me."

"Good," Mindi said with a laugh. "Then maybe the prospect of speaking to anyone but me and Moaning Myrtle may become less intimidating to you, too. OW!" she exclaimed, and reached up to rub the spot on her head Abby had just swatted with her wand.

That night, Abby had difficulty trying to get the blonde boy out of her head. Anger boiled inside of her as she recalled their encounter at the lake. She couldn't be more disgusted with him. She wouldn't have minded much, had he just laughed and kept walking - but he had to go and find the one thing she was self-conscious about at that moment, as if he knew: whether she truly belonged in Ravenclaw. True, she did get exceptional marks in exams, and was never opposed to sitting down for a good read. But those all-too-frequent lapses in memory and judgment made her feel sometimes as if she didn't even belong in Hogwarts, much less Ravenclaw House. Malfoy struck a nerve - a nerve she couldn't seem to calm down.

Her dreams, however, couldn't help but make her see him in a different light. She sneered at them as she recalled them - finding she suddenly shared a class with Draco and being partnered on an assignment, passing him in the halls and exchanging glances that showed far from the burning scorn she truly felt for him, watching him lounge by the lake with the bright sunlight practically making his skin and hair glow - yet, as opposite as the connotations of these dreams were from reality, they were vivid enough to effect her. Images from the dreams would flash if she saw even an inch of his blonde head, as if they'd been reality, and she would flush pink when really she ought to be burning red in anger. She had no reason to think fondly of him except for the false images of friendliness she'd witnessed in her own head. She knew this, and yet, she never seemed able to kick up the hurt feelings of before.

This became quite an issue when he continued to taunt her. Time and time again, Draco found means to shout insults her way, trip her, even throw small objects at her. She never gave him the benefit of a response, but his actions seemed to help the burning dislike she knew she must have for him.

Abby made her way down the hall after charms class one morning and didn't bother even trying for the common room - she'd much rather study outside as the weather had grown considerably warmer. The corridor was a bit crowded and she clutched her bag tightly to her side.

She heard a great "rip!" from beneath her elbow and stopped dead in her tracks, heaving a great sigh to the ceiling. The strap of her bag was torn clean in two. She'd have assumed it an accident, had she not glanced behind her and glimpsed a lick of bright blonde hair rushing through the crowded corridor.

She let out an exasperated growl. This was the last straw.

"MALFOY, YOU INSUFFERABLE ARSE!"

She raced toward him and the crowd began to part, darting out of her way with gasps so as not to be trampled. She neared him. He may have been awfully fast on a broom, but she could definitely beat him on foot. Just as she could have clipped his heels with each step, she stomped down on one foot, reared her other one back, and gave Draco a swift kick in the pants.

He went flying forward and collapsed in front of a suit of armor, which jumped back, quite alarmed. She kept her wand firmly pointed at him, and he looked a bit fearful as he had dropped his, but retained the mocking smirk on his face.

"Oh, look! The Mudblood's lost her temper! Pity you have to resort to kicking to hurt me - too bad at magic to do any _real_ harm?"

"_Silencio_!"

Malfoy's laughter stopped abruptly. Eyes widening, he began to grasp at his throat, as if he could pry the charm off himself. She shrugged off her curiosity as to how he knew she was Muggle-born. "It's not polite to call people names like that, Malfoy. What's the matter?" She taunted, wand still firmly pointed. "Lost all power when you've lost the ability to throw petty slurs about? Don't worry, I'm sure your father could insult me properly for you - I'm sure that's where you learnt it all - pity I can't hear him from all the way in Azkaban!"

She gave him one, piercing glare in the eyes, then quickly darted back down the corridor, snatching up her torn bag, proceeding past the circle of onlookers, and safely to the one place no teacher would dare to look - Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

She felt she'd sat for hours in that empty stall, quietly flipping through _Hogwarts, a History _yet again. After her earlier encounter with Draco Malfoy, she didn't care for the idea of venturing back into the school where likely everyone would have heard of the ordeal by now, and where all eyes would be on her. She would normally have a friendly chat with Myrtle in here - Myrtle was a Muggle-born Ravenclaw outcast like herself, the only difference being that she was dead - yet the whiny ghost was nowhere to be found. She didn't decide to stop reading until she'd noticed she was already nearly halfway through the book. It really _had _been hours. Luckily she didn't have any classes that afternoon, or she'd be in deep trouble.

She hurriedly opened the door to the stall and dashed towards the entrance to the bathroom. Just as she peered into the corridor, however, she saw a distressed-looking Malfoy, headed straight for her.

He was looking down and didn't notice her when she suppressed a gasp and darted back into the bathroom, into the same stall again. There she would wait for him to pass and hopefully head back to the common room unnoticed by him.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swung open. Abby jumped. Had someone else been in the corridor and seen her poke her head out of the "out-of-order" bathroom? She cursed to herself. The person in the bathroom could be a teacher, and she could be seriously punished in a matter of seconds.

No stern voice of a teacher ever sounded, though, and there was no searching of stalls for the rule-breaker. The person didn't seem to know she was there. She heard their footsteps echo in the large bathroom and continue just past her stall. She bent down to peek at their feet for some kind of clue as to their identity, discovering a pair of glossy shoes and the hems of a pair of black pants. _A boy_, she thought.

Abby heard heavy, shaky breathing that began to grow slowly louder. Eventually, it erupted into sobs that grew more and more powerful. A deep feeling of solemnity swept through her as she realized the person was crying - dreadfully. She thought she recognized the voice, but it didn't sound right. It just wasn't ringing in the right tone, and she couldn't identify it.

She heard two "clunk"s of bone on concrete, and could only guess it was the boy's knees hitting the floor. Now his face would be low enough to see looking under the bottom of the stall.

Abby bent back down again. Clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle another gasp, she could hardly believe she was witnessing suck a vulnerable, unstable, and utterly broken Draco Malfoy. So this was where he was headed. His cheeks looked sunken and his face contorted with pain. His fingers clawed at his hair, destroying its neat grooming.

Abby felt a sudden surge of guilt. She couldn't help but feel as if her bullying had done this to Draco. After all, she was one of the few not intimidated by him - how often was he really ever bullied as badly as she'd just done? Knowing how harsh he was to anyone and everyone, she normally wouldn't feel much pity for him, but looking at him, so broken, just feet from her, she was full of remorse. The affectionate feelings echoed from her dreams once again, and she didn't bother trying to stop them this time.

She stood up, and drew a deep breath. She had to remedy this. Mustering up her courage, she put on a soft expression and slowly pushed the stall door open.

"Myrtle?" Draco asked pitifully, not facing Abby.

She didn't feel like correcting him right away. "Look, Draco," she began, "If I hurt you that much, I didn't mean to. Really, I'm-"

He shot to his feet, brandishing his wand. His expression darkened with shock and terror. She put her hands up in surrender. "Hey, look, technically I was in here before you, and _you_ barged in on _me_, so don't go pointing-"

"I DON'T CARE!" He shouted in anger and anguish. "GET OUT! Before I Curse you to bits!"

"_Protego_!" she said with a snotty air in her voice. With a wave a of her wand, a shield formed in front of her. She was going to apologize, whether he liked it or not. "I'm just trying to apologize for-"

"There's nothing to apologize for!" He seemed to calm down a bit, yet still fuming. "This has nothing to do with your little stunt! This is far bigger than you are!"

"Well, what if I can help?" She added indignantly.

A look of exhausted sadness painted his face. "YOU CAN'T HELP!" he shouted. "NO ONE can, and even if they could, I wouldn't be asking help from a clumsy, worthless Mudblood!"

The name stung, just as it had earlier, but she decided a lighter reaction would both diffuse the situation and possibly calm Draco down. "Best not let Myrtle hear you talk like that," she said, attempting a more friendly, joking tone. "I hear she was a Mudblood as well - I reckon we'd never hear the end of her wailing if she heard you saying that."

Draco failed to suppress a tiny laugh, and Abby smiled slightly as the chuckle crossed his lips. His wand arm relaxed slightly, but still remained pointed at Abby. He sniffed a bit, regaining his composure. Tears still slid down his cheeks. His voice became more stern than angry. "Really. . . . There's no way you can help this. I'm sure of it."

She let out a small sigh. "Well, maybe it would help to, you know. . . ." comfort seemed increasingly difficult with someone you'd loathed hours earlier. "_Talk_ about it? O-or something?"

He dropped his wand arm with a sigh. "No," he breathed, slumping down to the floor, sitting criss-crossed and burying his head in his hands. "I mean, yes, it would. . . . Help," he started, "but I can't tell you. I can't even tell Myrtle."

Abby sank down to her knees, still feeling awkward. She sat stiffly, but waved away her shield. "Well, I can at least stay here 'til you've stopped crying. And I'd be more than willing to use a Memory charm on any intruders - I'd hate to see any of your usual taunting victims see you like this." She gave him a timid smile, which he just barely returned.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. After awhile, Draco seemed a bit more comfortable letting the tears fall in her presence. They turned more rapidly into sobs, then he began mumbling to himself, "I can't do it, I can't do it. . . ." Abby didn't dare ask what it was he couldn't do, but she had a sinking feeling it had something to do with his father, or worse, his father's master, the Dark Lord.

Half of her still wanted to cringe and run away, or maybe even scorn him, but the other longed to reach out and touch the broken boy before her, somehow heal his pain.

Nearly an hour later, Draco looked up at her, eyes puffy and red. Abby hadn't moved a muscle. He seemed to contemplate her for a moment, as if he were carefully calculating his next move. He sighed and shifted towards her. Giving her another contemplating look, his face seemed to scorn himself as he reached forward and embraced her.

Abby didn't understand how she felt. It felt wrong to be so close to him, to be touching him. Especially without trying to _hurt_ him. It was like touching the roof of a tall building no one had ever been close to before - it was something always out of reach, that anyone had been contented never to touch, only observe, and here it was at her fingertips. She timidly returned the embrace. The most foreign feeling was the one she received when his slick hair brushed her cheek. . . .

"Don't think anything of this. I just. . . . Myrtle's not exactly good at the whole hugging thing. . . ."

Abby laughed warmly.

"You're not half bad, Hale," He said almost scathingly. She'd have thought it an insult if his arms weren't firmly wrapped around her middle.

"Nor you, Malfoy," she responded.

He gave a dark laugh. "You're delusional if you think I'm not bad. Seriously, it's unhealthy."

"Well, it helps to know you have, y'know. . . . A soul and all."

He snickered again. He then lurched out of the hug, giving her a very dark, serious look. "Tell no one," he said. She started to chuckle, thinking he was making a joke about his bad-boy image, but as his grimace didn't falter, she found herself mistaken.

"Oh. . . . A-about this? Of course not."

"Expect nothing different after this," he said, pointing a finger in her face. "The usual loathing and ridicule WILL continue."

She crossed her arms. "You say that as if you should expect anything different out of _me_."

He narrowed his eyes and smirked. Then he stood, took a few steps, and looked at her once over his shoulder conceitedly before stalking out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few weeks, Malfoy seemed to have trouble keeping his word. He gave her no scathing remarks, hardly played any pranks on her. The most he ever did was bump her shoulder, hard, when they passed in the hall. Though she expected nothing less, and in fact expected more, she couldn't help but feel a little hurt when he gave such unkind gestures. She felt maybe they could be a sort of masked greeting - however, she knew they were probably just a reminder that her life would be a living hell if she were ever to reveal to anyone what she'd witnessed in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Despite this subtle hostility, Abby couldn't help but notice that her affection for him was starting to grow. She knew it was strange - he was nothing but unkind to her - but perhaps that was what was so alluring. He was untouchable, and could in fact loathe her, but they'd spent that tender time together and she'd seen a side of him few had before, if any. The fact that sharing a moment like that again was probably impossible just made her want it more. She never disliked Draco when he did anything to her - just felt a tiny pang of disappointment.

One day, she was headed by Myrtle's bathroom again and Draco was coming down the corridor the opposite way. She diverted her eyes and stared at her feet as she walked. They were bound to cross paths. This was the first time they were in the same corridor without anyone else. Perhaps this time she would know whether the bumping was just a show or his honest feelings. If he bumped her, she would know nothing had really changed between them. If he didn't. . . . Perhaps he'd take this opportunity to be friendly. . . .

They finally approached each other. Abby glanced up at him, but he was as intent on his feet as she had been earlier. Just as they were inches away from each other, Abby felt a hard, sharp shoulder make contact with her collarbone.

Her shoulder was wrenched back and she nearly fell over from the weight shift. The books clutched in her arms toppled to the ground.

She couldn't stop herself - she glanced back at him for any sign of. . . . Well, anything. She didn't want to believe he'd still be hostile when they were alone.

The face he made as he turned back confirmed her fears. He scowled at her like she was a squashed bug on the bottom of his neatly polished shoes, then turned on his heel and continued on his way, Abby watching his footsteps fade into the distance.

Abby bent down to pick up her things. She fought to hold back tears. _Why are you so surprised? _She asked scathingly to herself. _Why would a rich, handsome pureblood boy bother with someone like you?_

She knew there was only one comforting place to be at that moment. She turned towards the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and a sob escaped her throat just as she entered.

She leaned against a stall and began to let the tears flow. That was when Myrtle's grey, shadowy form sidled towards her.

"Oh, Abby dear," she cooed, looking teary-eyed herself. "What's the matter?"

She smiled at the ghost girl, hoping to make her next statement gentle enough. "Don't worry, Myrtle," she began. "It's nothing anyone can really help with. I'm not supposed to tell."

Myrtle grimaced and crossed her arms. She scoffed. "That's what _he_ always says." She began to float away, and Abby hoped she was leaving.

She analyzed what she'd said.

_ No one can help. . . . Can't tell anyone. . . . _

Her sobs returned in full-force as she realized Myrtle was talking about Draco. He must've come in here quite a lot.

As if in sync with her thoughts, the door swung open, revealing Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway.

Abby's breath seemed to rush out of her lungs. She sucked in enough air to speak, frantically wiping at her eyes.

"What do _you_ want, _Malfoy_?"

"I. . . ." he began, looking at her, then looking at the floor, as if trying to find his next words etched into the concrete. His eyes flicked back up to her, looking pained. "Look, I wanted to, I don't know. . . ."

"I think the word you're looking for is 'apologize,'" she said through clenched teeth. "I doubt it's something you've done before."

"In all honesty, it's not," he replied, stepping toward her. "I know this is hard-"

Abby laughed darkly, interrupting him. "What _is_ 'this'?" she exclaimed, exasperated.

"This! Me! Me pretending I can't stand you!"

"'Pretending'? Please. You don't have to pretend at all. I saw it in your eyes five minutes ago." a few more tears started to fall. "I just don't know why you're bothering to come in here and spare my feelings."

"Abby," he started. Her heart jolted. He'd never called her by her first name before. "I don't think you understand. I've had to do a _lot_ of pretending. My entire life. I've had to convince my father I give a rat's arse about blood purity since I was born. I've had to make teachers believe I'm a golden child that can do no wrong. And I've had to hide, from everyone. . . ." He stopped, seeming lost for words, or perhaps stopping himself before he said too much. "Pretending I hate you is a piece of cake. Or. . . . It should be."

Her breathing started to come a bit easier as she took in his words. _False hope_, she thought. _Don't fall for it._

"The corridor was empty. We were alone. Why would you have to pretend when we were _alone_?"

He sighed. He looked altogether disappointed with himself. "Because you're one of the people I knew I had to convince. The most important one, in fact. I just. . . . Couldn't do it. Not once I realized I'd made you cry. . . ."

She scoffed, though her heart seemed to flutter at the concern he'd just confessed to having for her. "What's the point of convincing me? You could save me a hell of a lot of heartbreak." She wanted to swallow her words as soon as they escaped her lips. She _actually_ used the word _heartbreak_. . . .

Draco was obviously effected by the word too, as his eyes flicked up to hers, washed with a bit of shock. . . . And maybe even hope.

"But that was my exact intention," he said softly. "You'll get hurt being close to me. If not by me, by someone else. . . ."

He grimaced at his last two words. Fear flashed across his eyes at the "someone else" he must have been thinking of.

"You'll be the first person. . . . If . . . If I fail. . . ."

He stopped himself abruptly, shaking his head. "But. . . . I guess that's all out in the open, now. . . . I don't have to be cruel to you anymore. At least not when we're alone. . . ."

Abby couldn't find any words. She just stared at the floor. She didn't want to give anything away by looking at him. A tear streaked down her cheek. They had stopped flowing, but that tear had been hanging onto her eyelid for a few minutes.

Draco took another step toward her. They were only a foot or two apart now. He reached up to her cheek and brushed away the tear. She couldn't fight the urge to look at him anymore. The butterflies in her stomach began to riot at his touch.

His eyes were the brightest crystal blue Abby had ever seen, practically glowing in the piercing golden sunlight beaming through the window. He was golden, and looking at her with such adoration. . . .

They leaned in at just the same time. Their lips pressed together and Abby felt as if they would never part. Her lips moved with his like they'd rehearsed it. Draco's fingers wove into her raven curls and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing his torso onto hers.

All of her feelings for Draco rushed to the surface. Every defense she'd built, every wall to keep them in seemed to gradually crumble until this moment when they disappeared entirely. Until now, she had even denied the possibility to herself. She didn't have to hide from herself anymore, and better yet, she didn't have to hide from Draco.

When it seemed an eternity had passed, they parted. Draco rested his forehead onto hers and closed his eyes. He took both of her hands in his. After a few moments with a glowing, elated smile, his face shifted in such a way that he looked near tears.

"This has to be the end of it. Do you understand?" He looked her in the eyes seriously, but affectionately. Abby gave a tiny nod, not wanting to ever leave him, but she knew their parting would be for the best. "It will be hard, but we know how we feel now. . . . No big mystery anymore. . . . Just promise me, whatever happens, whatever I do, you don't forget this. Don't forget how I feel. It won't change. Understood?" She nodded faintly again and smiled.

He gave her one small peck on the lips, squeezed her hand, and left the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

Months passed, and summer had just begun. Abby lounged on her bed in the girl's dormitory, working on a few bits of homework. She'd not spoken to Draco since their second encounter in Myrtle's bathroom. Yet, with every sneer and bump, she hardly suppressed a smile. She knew the truth. That was all she needed. She thought of it as a game whenever she grimaced back at him. Though, still, she burned to press her lips to his again and feel his fingers in her hair. . . .

Mindi strolled in just as Abby slipped her finished homework into her bag. Mindi flicked a tiny folded piece of parchment onto Abby's stomach as she glided towards her own bed. Abby looked at it, puzzled.

"I've just seen Pansy Parkinson," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry," Abby said, sneering.

"Oh, it was quite a sight. Her eyebrows were scorched and her hair was everywhere. I reckon she tried to get into that," she said, pointing at the parchment, "and she must've been threatened to give it over to me, because she definitely didn't want it to get to you."

"It's for me? From who?"

"Dunno," she said. "But you're the only one who can open it. Pansy told me so."

Abby took the parchment in her hands, opening it timidly, not certain she wouldn't suffer the same fate as Pansy. The parchment opened at her will, however, with not a single singed eyebrow.

_Abby,_

_ Meet me near the lake at midnight._

There was no signature, only a small watermark of a dragon in the bottom right corner. Abby figured it was some sort of hint as to who the sender was.

_ Dragon. . . . Dragon. . . . There's a latin word for 'dragon,' isn't there . . . ?_

She gasped as it clicked in her mind, closing her mouth instantly when she remembered Mindi was still there.

_ Draco!_

"What?" Mindi said, looking at Abby with wide eyes. "What is it?"

"Oh. I-it's nothing."

"Rubbish. You're blushing." Mindi paused, then gasped. "You're _blushing_! Is it a boy? Who is it? What does it say?" Mindi scrambled over to Abby's bed, waiting eagerly for her answer.

Abby started to cave. She knew she'd revealed too much already, and she couldn't hide _all_ of it from her anymore. "Maybe it _is_ a boy. . . ." She replied teasingly. "But. . . . I can't tell you who."

Mindi sighed. "Pity. But, still. What does it say?"

"He wants me to meet him," she said. "Tonight."

Mindi leaned in towards her with wide eyes. "You're not really thinking of sneaking out, are you?" she searched Abby's face for answers. She gasped again. "You are! You're actually thinking about sneaking out!"

Abby sighed. "Look, you can't tell anyone, alright? This. . . . This is important to me, okay? I haven't been able to see him for a long time, and I. . . . I really like him." She gave Mindi a pleading, earnest look.

"Oh, darling, of course not," she said. "I'm your best friend." They smiled at each other. Then a stern look flashed on Mindi's face. "But you have to promise to tell me everything. _Everything_. Even if you can't tell me who it is."

Abby contemplated this for a moment. Well, as long as she didn't know it was Draco Malfoy. . . . "I will, Mindi. I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

Abby darted through the dark corridors, peering around every corner for any sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris. Thankfully, she found none, and quickly rushed out into the grounds.

As she made her way to the lake, she noticed a tree with a strange chunky silhouette. She approached it, and found that the outline was a person leaning on the other side of the tree. She smiled. Though it was dark, she could still clearly recognize Draco's pointed face, gray-blue eyes and slick blonde hair.

He turned as she approached and smiled back at her. As he moved into the moonlight, Abby saw that he was clutching a broomstick in his hand. "Hi, Abby," he said, before grabbing the sides of her face and pulling her into a powerful kiss.

Abby was stunned. They may have only kissed once before, but there was a fiery passion in this one that Abby did not expect. It seemed almost. . . . Forced.

"Hi," she breathed once they'd parted, a little out of breath.

He nodded towards the broomstick in his hand. "I thought maybe, since we haven't seen each other in awhile. . . . You might want to go for a ride."

Abby hesitated. "A . . . A ride?" She started, contemplating the broomstick.

"Just around the grounds," he assured her. "It's a nice night. . . . I thought it would be nice. . . ."

Abby smiled warmly. "Of course. That sounds wonderful," she said reassuringly. "I just. . . . I've never ridden on a broomstick before. Besides Flying first year. . . ."

Draco set the broom in the air long ways and swung a leg over it, hovering in the air a few inches. "You'll just have to trust me, then," he said with a deviant smile, holding his hand out to help her on.

She paused for but a moment, then mirrored his smile, climbing onto the broomstick behind him and wrapping her arms tight against his chest. A sigh escaped her lips.

"Hold on," he said, and took off.

Within seconds, they were at least 100 feet in the air. Abby squealed and squeezed Draco even tighter. He gave a tiny laugh, but then gestured towards the sky.

"Oh, Draco. . . ."

It really was a beautiful night. The sky was so clear - Abby could've counted the stars if there weren't so many. There were no city lights anywhere near the castle, so there was nothing hiding any of the stars in the deep blue backdrop of the sky. Though they fuzzed together to form beautiful swirling designs, like an angelic painting, she could pick out each and every shining, silver star. The moon wasn't out - there was no light cast on anything on the earth below, and their surroundings faded into the background. Abby felt as if she were in a great, gargantuan black sphere with nothing but the stars and planets above inside. She swore she saw not one, but _two_ shooting stars, one dashing across the sky through the surrounding stars and the other chasing it close behind.

Abby tore her gaze away from the gorgeous array of stars and looked down. She could just barely make out the Forbidden Forest looming in the distance. She shuddered a bit as the stories she'd heard of its inhabitants rushed into her thoughts. She wondered if they'd fly over it, but it seemed as if they were losing altitude. . . .

They were. The outskirts of the forest came closer and closer until they were only around five feet from the ground, speeding toward it faster and faster. Just as she was about to ask Draco about this, he swiveled in the air 'til he was facing the complete opposite way and stopped abruptly.

While Draco clutched the handle of the broomstick in his hand, Abby's grip on Draco slipped and the momentum sent her flying. She tumbled to the ground, rolling a few times, and then stopped, filled with shock and covered in dirt, twigs, and a little blood.

She didn't want to believe it, but there was no mistaking it - he'd thrown her off intentionally.

Draco drifted to the ground, dropped his broom, and stepped towards Abby's heavily breathing and confused figure, drawing his wand and pointing it at her nose. His face contorted with. . . . There was no other word for it. . . . Evil.

Abby could only stare. It was a set-up. He never cared for her, he never wanted her, he just wanted to _hurt_ her - why, she couldn't figure out. She was almost certain it had something to do with her blood-status. _Stupid_, she scorned to herself. His words from their first encounter in the bathroom echoed in her mind. _You're delusional if you think I'm not bad. . . ._

"I'm going to give you thirty seconds," He said with a dark intensity Abby had never heard in his voice. It made her shudder. "If you don't get away, you'll sincerely regret it."

Abby scrambled to her feet, looking him in the eyes with fear pulsing through her body. Her hands trembled. The gaze he returned hers with was of pure darkness.

"_Run_."


	7. Chapter 7

The venom in his voice gave her the sudden rush of fear she needed. She took off, flying through the trees, and when she looked back, she could see his form getting smaller, standing, waiting, counting out her head-start.

* * *

><p>He threw her face back down into the dirt and turned away from her bound, defenseless form, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How stupid. . . . How unbelievably stupid."<p>

Abby could only lie there and breathe. After a few seconds, a sob escaped her throat.

"This is why I did what I did, Abby!" He screamed, rushing toward her again. "This is why I needed you to hate me! If something like this happened, I needed you to fight! I just. . . . I just didn't know he'd make _me_. . . ." He wove his shaking hands into his hair and grimaced.

Abby just looked at him with desperation. She didn't understand any of this. "What are you talking about?"

Draco groaned in frustration. He went down to his knees in front of her. "I told you I was bad, Abby. I _told_ you. And you still didn't stay away. You still thought there was something good in me. Well, now, I can prove it to you," he said, frowning, and began to lift the sleeve of his left arm.

Abby lurched away, letting out a loud scream. She scrambled a number of feet away from him. Her breathing came short and her heart was racing even more than when she'd been running. Her wide eyes stared at his arm. There, just under the crook of Draco's elbow, was the Dark Mark.

"Now do you get it?" He screamed. Abby could tell he was fighting back tears. "It's him. It's the Dark Lord. How could you have expected anything different? I've practically been _raised_ just to do his bidding. I've been expected to believe the things he says, worship him, fear him. The fear alone has made me do all three. I can't escape this life, Abby. . . . I can't escape being on the bad side, no matter how much I want to. It's not as easy as it is for Potter. . . . He hasn't got parents to please. . . . No one to kill him for stepping out of line. . . . If I was as hard to kill as he was, I wouldn't be here. . . ."

Draco's expression grew somehow even darker. "The Dark Lord gave me a job. . . . An important one. . . . I'm supposed to _kill_ someone, Abby. Someone important."

"Harry Potter?" She blurted.

He laughed out loud. "Of course not!" He said. "Are you kidding? He wants Potter for himself. . . . No, he gave me someone else. . . . But I won't tell you. I can't."

"Why?" she asked indignantly. "Why bother hiding it? You're just going to kill me anyway!"

Draco laughed again, sending a shiver up her spine. Somehow the laugh had made him look even more broken. "No, Abby, I'm not going to kill you." He failed to contain a few sobs. "I have to do something worse. . . . Far, far worse. . . ."

Abby gathered what was left of her courage. "What? What could the Dark Lord want with me, anyway? I'm not a threat to him, I'm not even really on the other side. . . . I'm _nothing_."

"Exactly." He said quietly. "You're nothing. And what he wants me to do to you. . . . You see, he's lost faith in me. . . . He doesn't think I can do it. He needs me to prove myself. . . . Prove my loyalty. . . ." Draco dropped all pretense of strength. He sobbed uncontrollably.

"What are you going to DO, Draco?" She shouted. She wanted all of this over with. It couldn't be that bad if she would live from it. . . .

"Destroy you," he said, looking back up at her pleadingly, as if she were the captor. "Physically and emotionally. . . . From the inside out. . . . He wants me to destroy someone I care about. And you were the first person he found in my thoughts. . . . And he saw me call you a Mudblood. . . ." He punched the ground, hard. "He'll kill me if I don't, Abby. . . . And he'll kill you too. . . ."

Abby tried to decipher what exactly that meant. Destroy. . . . From the inside out. . . .

_Inside. . . ._

She gasped and her eyes flew open. She stared at him. The look of despair he gave her told her she was right.

"No. . . . Draco, no, please. . . ."

That was when the tears really started to flow. Not only would she lose her virginity by force, but she'd lose it on the orders of the Dark Lord. . . .

And, in a way, so would Draco.


	8. Chapter 8

It all began to dawn on her, watching him sit feet from her, trying to muster up his courage. This was going to happen. He'd accepted that he couldn't get around it. She knew if he tried to run away, tried to hide - if both of them just disappeared, Voldemort would kill his parents. She tried to think rapidly of any way to avoid this - but it would be stupid to think Draco himself hadn't examined every angle carefully. He wouldn't just accept this as their fate. . . . Would he?

His breathing steadied, if only for a moment. "I just. . . . Need you to be strong, okay?"

He started to timidly move towards her. She pleaded once more between sobs, shaking her head, but leaned over onto her back anyway as he loomed over her. If he was really going through with this, she couldn't win. The real reason her legs weren't tied dawned on her at that moment. It wasn't out of concern for her ankle. It was for access. . . .

She gave another powerful sob as his hand moved up to cover her mouth. "Please. Just, make this easier on both of us, alright? Please. . . ." He begged, his face contorted with pain and guilt. A few tears slid down his cheeks. The other hand went to move her skirt and pull her tights and underwear down to her ankles.

The sobs overtook him as she was revealed before him, and Abby closed her eyes tight, wishing to be anywhere but here.

Both of them shuddered as he unzipped his pants, moved her legs apart, and began to press himself into her. . . .

Abby let out a loud scream of pain, barely muffled by Draco's hand. It was excruciating. She felt as if she were being ripped open. The further in he went, the more she struggled to get away. She didn't want him to be hurt by the Dark Lord, she wanted to submit, to let him succeed, but her body fought to escape. Her legs kicked dirt and leaves all over, scrambling to move away from the pain, but though his face revealed remorse, his body was unrelenting, and her flailing legs seemed to only multiply the agony.

This was something far beyond Dark magic. And, yet, even Muggles were capable. . . .

"I'm sorry," he cried, still sobbing. "I'm so sorry. . . ."

For many long minutes, he continued slowly. The pain started to subside until she felt none. Eventually, her tears stopped and she remained numb, unfeeling, as if she had succeeded into escaping somewhere else in her mind. Draco gradually seemed to forget his guilt. His tears subsided too, and he squeezed her close as he grunted, beginning to thrust harder and harder. Abby knew he'd succeeded in focusing on the physical aspect of this act and not on the guilt. She was thankful. She didn't want him to be any more guilty than he would be when he was finished. . . . And it meant that finish would come sooner than if he couldn't make himself enjoy it. . . .

Suddenly - it felt like hours, days later - he gave three deep, drawn out thrusts and stopped, pressed firmly inside her, then pulled away, breathing heavily. The warm feeling in her middle would've been nice if she didn't know what it _really_ was.

He looked down at her like she was precious, despite the fact that he'd just defiled her. He brushed her hair out of her face, petting her head, then leaned down and kissed her.

She knew it wasn't part of the act. She knew the kiss was genuine. It was like an unspoken apology. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to return it.

He looked as if he would start crying again, and reached down to pull her tights and underwear back up. He then waved his wand and her bonds disappeared. She sat up, exhausted. He moved back and slumped down to the ground, taking his head in his hands. "Oh, God. . . ."

He'd gone through with it. He'd followed his orders. There was no happy ending. There she was, lying in the dirt, destroyed by the mad she'd come to trust.

She surprised herself when she felt deep concern for him. She felt almost guilty herself, and she knew it made no sense. He'd wronged her. He'd destroyed her. _He raped you, _a voice said to her. And here she was, wanting to comfort him.

Then she remembered his words from their second encounter in the bathroom.

_Whatever happens, whatever I do, you don't forget this. Don't forget how I feel. It won't change._

She crawled toward him, insides aching, and wrapped her arms around him, beginning to cry herself. He buried his face in her neck as he sobbed uncontrollably. She gently stroked his hair. "Shh," she said through tears. "Shh, Draco, it's alright. . . . I'm okay, Draco. . . ."

They'd both been raped. They'd both been defiled. They'd both had their innocence ripped from them in that dark, evil forest by the same dark, evil man. The forced, violating nature of it remained the same for both - thus, Draco, in fact, had more pain than Abby. He'd had to _do_ it. He'd had to inflict the pain he now shared upon someone else. Someone he cared for. And still, he would have to _kill _someone. Abby couldn't feel like the victim anymore. She cursed the Dark Lord, she cursed the Death Eaters - and ultimately, she cursed Lucius Malfoy. What saddened her the most was that there was no way to save him. The darkness surrounding the Wizarding world was, as Draco had said, far bigger than her - far bigger than both of them - yet, he was forced to do its bidding. He was too immersed in the evil ways of his father to go and be heroic like Potter, fighting the darkness 'til his last breath - yet too inherently good to be free from the guilt of being a servant to evil. Heroics were easy when you weren't raised to believe _evil_ was good. He'd never be able to change. He would always be a Malfoy, expected to curse Mudbloods and Muggles and praise blood purity. Eventually, if events like this hardened him enough, Draco would inevitably become just like his father - cold, cruel, and selfish. Abby suddenly began to cherish this in-between stage of Draco's life, when he was still able to feel guilt and fear. . . . She knew it would be short-lived. . . . Suddenly, despite the horrific event that just occurred, she couldn't help but be thankful for this moment: the son of Lucius Malfoy, crying in her arms. The son of Lucius Malfoy - _Guilty._

He squeezed her closer and cried harder. When it seemed like ages had passed, he pulled away, leaving his hands resting on her waist.

"You should be running," he said finally. "You shouldn't want to touch me. You shouldn't want to be anywhere near me."

"A lot of things shouldn't be." She said. "Like the fact that we even know each other at all. But it happened. And something tells me it was supposed to. Right at the time that we did."

"You're crazy. . . ." He said, shaking his head. "You're crazy for still caring about me. . . .

". . . But I thank you for it. . . . I don't deserve it."

Her eyelids started to get heavy. "Just get me back to the castle, Draco." she said, slumping onto his shoulder. "I'm weary. . . ."

And, as she drifted off to sleep, Draco lifted her into his arms and made his way through the trees, back to Hogwarts, and back to his mission.

**THE END.**

* * *

><p><em>First off, I want to say thank you to all of my wonderful readers! This was really just a big creative release - I wasn't expecting as much popularity as this brought. An extra big special thank you to those of you who reviewed! Out of the almost 1,000 people who read this fic, around, what, <em>five_ people reviewed? Haha. So thank you to those people, very much. I also want to say to those of you who may be asking: yes, I really did end it there. I love writing fics that could actually believably fit neatly into the original stories, and unless I've got some serious timing wrong, I do believe these events could fit. I don't think I'd be any good at some alternate reality stuff like some of you fantastic fanfic writers manage - I'd be too worried about doing the author justice._

_This fic has been a tiny, minuscule yet sympathetic nod at Draco fan girls. Jean Rowling has expressed concerns over girls' fascinations with Malfoy, and I felt kind of weird knowing I was one of those people, and it made me start thinking. Although we all like to think so, we really couldn't "change" this Slytherin boy with our undying love, sympathy and care, had he existed. It's a romantic thought, yes, but not a realistic one, and possibly a dangerous one at that. The alluring nature of Malfoy really is created in the fact that we are outsiders looking in (and of course, the drop-dead gorgeousness of Tom Felton) - sit and realistically think, What would Draco say to you? What would he judge you for? And how would a character like him manifest in the Muggle world? It can be kind of scary, and it definitely isn't romantic. That's why this story delves into that little fantasy world of "loving the bad boy" and then suddenly takes a dark turn. (I tried to make the rape as realistically un-sexy as possible... But I'm unsure if I was successful...) Even if he reveals himself to the light, the darkness will take him back. It's in his blood, in his nature. While my story has a somewhat happy or, at least, not completely shattering ending, Abby knows they will not live "happily ever after," and Draco, while most likely good at heart deep down _for now_, will eventually be hardened into a cold, cruel Death Eater. And I do mean it when I say I like to fit my stories neatly into the series - though it doesn't go that far, theoretically, Draco still marries Astoria Greengrass. (Commence gagging.)_

_But yes, Tom Felton's eyebrow pops and devious smiles and distressed grimaces and portrayals of inner moral conflict are all still very, very, VERY sexy._

_I will say, however, for those of you wanting more of Abby and Draco's story, you may get your wish. There is a sequel in the works... Well, conceptually, anyway. If I can find an interesting way to continue my ideas and wrap them up neatly, there will be a sequel - but don't mark my words on that! I don't want any disappointed readers._

_One again, thank you to all who took the time to read my story - this story has haunted me for months now and it just had to get out, whether it was good or bad, and I'm very happy that so many people took a liking to it. Until next time - good night!_

_~Aryn Jean_


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